


Delicate

by NovelistAngel23



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistAngel23/pseuds/NovelistAngel23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when Jean looked at Marco, he felt at peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate

_You’re pretty_ , Jean thinks.

It comes to him suddenly one day. He’s not even paying attention. Marco has the grin of a child as he scribbles madly into a letter. It’s for his mother--he writes one every month. His hair falls over his face, and Jean thinks he needs to cut it.

But it’s… dark. Looks like it would be soft. When he looks up, it brushes against long, girlish eyelashes. _Pretty_ , Jean thinks. _So pretty_.

Marco glances at Jean beneath those pretty eyelashes. His eyes are big and brown.

Jean thinks they’re like wood--that Marco is like wood. Sturdy. Reliable. Burns easy, just like Marco burns with passion when it catches him. Sometimes, it smells sweet.

“Are you going to write a letter?” Marco asks suddenly.

Jean is surprised out of his reverie. He sits up straight and arches his back to get the cricks out. “Nah, Momma probably doesn’t want to hear from me anyway.” When he settles down, Marco looks a little concerned. He always does. “What’d you write to your mom anyway?”

Marco blushes as he begins to fold his letter into careful sections, pushing it into an envelope. “About everything that’s been happening lately.”

“Like what?” Jean smirks a little as he leans across the table towards him. “That time Connie fell on his ass in the ice?”

Marco giggles and shakes his head. “No, silly. And don’t curse!”

Jean just shrugs and leans back as Marco seals the letter with the wax seals provided. It has the Trainee Corps logo on it, two swords crossed like fingers in a promise. “It was funny.”

Marco closes his eyes. His lashes create long shadows across his freckled cheeks. Jean can’t help but think that it’s _pretty_. That Marco is so pretty. Delicate and soft in a world that has only ever been rough to Jean.

He’s never been the kid with a million friends. He’s never been the kind to give up even though training left him on his ass more often than Connie.

He thinks of the bruises that leave permanent marks on his body now. He thinks of how they look on Marco’s pale skin. The freckles that used to be in those places are all but painted over now. He sees it whenever he stands near Marco in the showers.

But Marco is different.

He’s not delicate. Not really. He’s broken up more fights than anyone should have to. Jean watched him kill a rabbit once, on a survival assignment. He gets a stern look on his face whenever someone is being bullied. He has fought beside them all--has more than kept up.

He’s not delicate but he has that kind of beauty. He has that kind of beauty that is gentle. That is soft. That is delicate.

Jean wonders when he went from pretty to beautiful.

He pays too close attention to the way Marco purses his lips as he kisses the envelope. It’s a soft kiss--gentle. Marco’s eyes are still shut, shadows on his cheeks almost reaching towards Jean. He wonders if they’d feel soft against his fingertips. Wonders, if he covered Marco’s eyes with his hand, would he feel them against his palm?

And then Marco pulls away from the envelope and opens his eyes again. He has such a soft smile on his face, his Cupid’s bow pronounced. He looks up at Jean through his eyelashes again. “I told her about how you carried me to the nurse when I sprained my ankle.” He blushes again, brighter than before, and looks away. “She likes knowing I have good friends here.”

Jean nods. “You do.”

Marco smiles the barest bit wider. “I know. And you’re my best.”

He rises to his feet to send the letter off. Jean looks at the leftover paper on the table where Marco sat and sees that there’s an ink splatter in the corner of one sheet, a few dots in a group, like freckles almost.

Jean smiles a little bit as well. _Pretty_. He rises to his feet to join Marco.

**Author's Note:**

> There's really nothing to tag, I was violently attacked by nostalgic jeanmarco feelings and this is the result. Cries myself to sleep--they're just SO GOOD


End file.
